what if we ruin it all?
by escapiism
Summary: It is only three years later when things start making sense. / Wherein Maya enters NYU, and Josh tries to find himself... or her, of all means.
1. and he watches still

**title:** what if we ruin it all?

 **a/n:** blehhhhhhhhhhhh these two won't leave me alone. i've become so obsessed with them it's unhealthy.. like seriously.. if they don't get together by the end of s3 i will cry. xD

yeah, so it's more of a prologue than a chapter buuuuuuut..

 **summary:** It is only three years later when things start making sense. / Wherein Maya enters NYU, and Josh tries to find himself... or her, of all means. —josh/maya, and whatever's next.

* * *

 **and he watches still  
(prologue)**

* * *

Josh watches.

He watches because it's all he can do. He watches his mum, and his dad... and then Eric, and Cory, and Morgan. He watches and it's almost, _almost_ like he can understand them, Eric's facade, Cory's dreams, Morgan's heart, but then they're off, somewhere, and Josh is left to watch and count the days until he's off, too.

(It's a lot longer than he'd have made it out to be.)

The next person he watches is Riley. Riley, his _niece_ , a responsibility at his age he does not understand, and it's nothing more than watching old Philadelphia skies, right?... because she's another "someone", a facade, a dream, a heart, a whatever, that comes and goes before Josh can figure it out. That's what he hates. _Change_. He hates having everything so... unmitigated, so _sure_ in his mind... and then for it only to crumble down like some lego bricks. And then he's all the way back to the beginning. Like there's something wrong with him. (Maybe there is.)

And that's why whatever culpability he has to take up; whatever it will lead him to, he wants Riley to come first. He doesn't want to lose her, or run away, so he has to start over, all again, fresh and new ( _eugh_ ).

Riley is not a Philadelphia sky, nor a facade (but she's a colourful dreamer, and has probably the biggest heart Josh has lived to learn).

Riley is not going to leave, and yes, she'll change, of course she will, but she won't run away. It's time for Josh to grow up, isn't it?

That's what he decides at eight years old, five-year-old Riley Matthews looping desks and constellations. That's what Josh decides as he watches her.

* * *

At nine years old Josh meets another Riley. But perhaps this one... a little on the frenzied side. Unruly. Crazy blonde hair, but beautiful. (Josh pinches himself at nine years old because she is _six_ , for Christ's sake.) Her name is "Maya", says Riley, that same cooed voice, unchanged, of some understanding (thank bloody God).

And "Maya," Josh repeats, "Cool." Because it is. It really, positively is.

Riley smiles the famous Matthews smile, and tilts her head. "She's my best friend, Uncle Josh." Josh nods, all nine years old and maturity. He nods like he understands (it's not even a lie... okay, he'll understand soon enough). "She'll be my best friend forever."

Josh doesn't want to intervene. She reminds him of Cory. Another world away.

"Of course she will," promises Josh, and Riley smiles once more.

"I'm glad you are my Uncle, Josh," she says.

"Me too," he whispers back. _Please don't change_ , he thinks, _for me?_

* * *

It's a month later when Josh and Riley's best friend forever actually _converse_. Her voice is jumpy (but then again she herself _is_ some trampoline of messed-up emotions and strange nicknames), and she gives him weird smiles.

Josh tries to decipher this great woman of wonder, at nine years old.

Josh fails.

Josh watches.

He's barely through the whole, "I'm Josh" thing before she's off—a pogo stick it is. She's a firecracker, and Josh tries _immensely_ hard to hide that embarrassing grin on his face.

(She comes back and bugs him time to time, and at some point Josh swears he hears a "boing" go off in his mind.)

* * *

Things become difficult at home. There are arguments, there are loud noises, there is more watching. Morgan watches with him, this time, the skies, movign stars, into daylight, her blonde hair swaying with the breeze as he sits beside him at the window sill. And then Josh wonders to himself if he should take on an astrology's life. But dare her mention it in his family house. He needs to get his degree first.

He wants to be back in New York. Skies are different there, _completely_ different. Quiet it is here... no one sleeps back there. He wants to see Cory, the only brother of his he's been able to visit regularly, and of course he wants to see his little niece, cute, cuddly Riley, and even something in the back of his mind tugs at nostalgia of the unsteady but _gorgeous_ ( _staph_ , _Josh_ ) Maya, the one he'd conversed (kind of) several times over the course of two months—in which both had been slightly unsettling—Riley's best friend forever at six years old.

Except Riley's no longer six, and Josh is no longer nine.

* * *

Twelve.

It's a good age for a story, isn't it?

Josh's learnt more about himself by this age than he believes he ever has in his past eleven years. He stops watches for a while—at some point he wonders why he even watches in the first place. He reads. Sometimes, he travels. He helps his dad out, and he studies, like the way he has to. Philadelphia is still boring, still hauntingly silent when it pleases, but he's at home. The loud noises stop, at some point.

And Josh realises that...

Josh learns that he isn't the mind-reader he'd thought he was.

He doesn't know. He's clueless, just clueless, and sure, he can pretend, but he's good as nothing when it comes to compassion. Josh avoids it. Josh doesn't know, not anymore.

When Josh returns to New York, Riley is almost _ten_. It's hard to believe she's the same age as good ol' mind-reading, in all maturity, _Josh_ was when he last saw his niece. It's creepy, almost. He guesses that's what truth is. A deteriorating loop of coincidences. (And lies.)

" _Uncle Josh_!" almost screams Riley as he enters the old Cory Matthews' house. He smells all that smells as it should be, and Topanga gives him a friendly wave from the stove, as Cory gives him a shout, and two-year-old Auggie cries, and finally Riley gives him the hug he knows he's been waiting for, and it all feels like it should. And he's happy, he is, he is.

"Niece Riley," smiles Josh, and his hands tangle in her hair.

"Boing," someone says.

Josh knows it's Maya, and just as he turns to greet her after three long years, she's nowhere in sight. Josh turns back questioningly at Riley, who only shrugs in response.

"She's not usually shy, I promise."

However long, or however _not_ long Josh has been watching Maya for, he makes out only a fool could not know _that_ , and perhaps he is a fool, but at least that has to mean _something_.

* * *

School kicks his ass a bit. Morgan leaves, like Cory; like Eric. They all go, and Josh is lonely. He's almost fourteen, and he's gone back to watching. Philadelphia skies, as ever, a dire beauty, and a hundred years from New York. He rests his chin on the window sill, his arms by his face, and he lets the soft wind fall on his face. It feels so good.

He visits Riley several more times. Watching her grow up, it's relieving. Watching, it's relieving. It's something brilliant, and Josh loves it. He loves having someone where _he_ _'s_ the one to be the protector. Riley looks up to him, and that, he loves.

* * *

At seventeen years old, Josh returns. Two years, he believes, since the last time he'd scene Niece Riley. Twelve, she'd been, still tiny, and still slightly clueless (who was the better judge Josh simply had no idea). Now she was _fourteen_ , a _teenager_. How that got into his head, he still had no clue, because although once upon a time, yes he'd been that age, probably a whole deal less serious; a whole deal more frazzled, but words can't explain how he can't get passed the "little" in his eyes. The innocence. That smile.

Is she going to scream again? How was he supposed to act?

He stops himself, as Alan walks mindlessly past him. Josh hears like bat, and listens in, but daren't he move.

"Ah, wow, look at these kids..." Alan says, "It wasn't that long ago I had kids around the house."

Josh suppresses a grin as he walks in, pulling on his jacket, and he throws him his keys, saying, "Yeah, it was just this morning, wasn't it, Dad?"

Alan smiles and catches them, "Yeah, yeah... you."

" _BOING_?"

Josh tries not to turn his head at the outburst. But curiosity is curiosity, and Josh smiles to himself again. Of course. Riley's best friend forever. And then Riley herself becomes his focal point... she's grown. They all have.

" _JOSHIE_!"

Josh laughs at yet another familiar echo... Auggie, tiny Auggie comes, and up Josh hauls him, twirling him around, unbalancing him, being the least of his worries, he carefully listens in once more, with once again Riley and her reasoning, and spontaneous Maya he hasn't seen for years. At some point he lets Auggie jump off him, and Cory calls, "My brother."

Josh replies. This is what it feels like. A busy home; a happy home.

"Uncle Josh," Riley says.

"Riley!" Josh pulls her into a hug.

"Uncle Josh!"

And Josh almost falls on his feet. Maya, little blonde bob, catapults herself on him, and Josh is left pretty much, as far as cliches go, speechless. This was awkward, but nice, on a whole new level. And it was normal. Completely and utterly quotidian. Except it had been too long.

"I-I'm not your uncle, Maya—"

"Even better," she interrupts.

It's a while, but finally she lets him free, and he can breathe... kinda. He can smell the slight cinnamon-ness of her hair, and how her arms felt flailing around him. He shudders. She's _three years younger than him_.

"It's been a while," Josh says, and he rubs the back of his neck, because what the hell is he supposed to say in moments like these?

"It sure has," answers Maya, rolling each letter perfectly off her tongue like it's what she's born to do.

Josh stands awkwardly for moments, shifting his feet. He wonders if anyone noticed how damn flustered he looks. "Well, boy, you grew up gorgeous." And then he clamps his eyes shut and walks part the—and how he must remind himself— _fourteen-year-old_. Perhaps he's taking this age-gap thing too seriously, but it's almost like she's just met him, and he can't get that out of his head. Why did he say that?

Of course, Josh knows it's not a lie. He'd thought her gorgeous _before_ she grew up, so that made him feel vaguely less perverted, but still, he shivers at that very thought.

* * *

In a year, he sees more of Maya, Riley, and the rest of Cory's little family (plus Shawn) than he's pretty sure he has in a long time, at least. He doesn't complain, because he likes things like this. He loves his parents—Alan and Amy mean the world to him, they really do, but he needs some space, once in a while, because sometimes they don't understand. God forbid him, but sometimes he looks up to them differently. Sure he does, but not in that father-figure-mother-figure way.

Sometimes that scares him.

What scares him the most though, is that he's going to _college_ in less than a year.

Like Eric... like Cory... like Morgan.

The time, it's come, and whether he's ready, Josh can also ask himself, but he himself has no answer, so he's left seeing red. And he's confused again. Foolish guy.

* * *

There's something about Maya Josh longs to understand. He goes back to old habits, watching, identifying, trying to read minds. He hasn't done it in a while—and creepy as it sounds—he likes watching people. He loves it, in fact, because it's him seeing beyond that person, if he's able to crack the code in the first place. It's him seeing beyond that person, and if there's anything Josh _really_ enjoys, it's understanding the picture. Because all his life it's been the opposite.

It's calming.

But then it isn't. Because whenever Maya, too-young-for-him Maya talks to him, he's addled. He fumbles for words, something to fill in that delicate gap, but always it comes out wrong. And _no_ , no way in hell is it because there's something, whether it's the tiniest of all things, under his skin that even so _looks_ at Maya that way. She's beautiful, yes, of course, but she's more like a sister, a second niece, to him.

He wants to keep it that way. And it annoys him that he can't comprehend what she tries to do, but it's the best it can get to.

* * *

It isn't too hard to guess Mayas's ridiculous schoolgirl crush on him. He doesn't know whether to feel honoured... happy... disgusted... _alarmed_ (and if it's possible, _shh_ , don't tell anyone, but it might just be possible that he feels them all), because it's creepy. _But so is watching, Josh_ , he tells himself, _watching people... people have restraining orders for that_.

But Josh isn't a creep.

Sometimes she drives him crazy. Okay, scrap that, he _always_ drives him crazy, but he knows he enjoys it, and he knows smart Maya knows that, too. He's not _too_ hidden. He guesses. He lets Maya know that, not that he's some Satan, or not that he loves seeing her miserable she's never going to get a chance, but because he wants to know that he doesn't see her the way he used to. _I guess I have to start looking at you differently_.

And it's somewhere along the line when he finally understands a small part of her.

Her heart is too big for her body. She cares, she does, and perhaps sometimes too much.

It stays in him for a while, and he watches her, and he wants, he really does, to tell her to stop caring so much, because it _has_ to be torturing her, but he hasn't found the right time. It's always wrong for him. It's always wrong for her.

But he finally does tell her. Capacities of love, whatever, Josh forgets that. It's ironic, he knows, but it's true. Josh can still feel the warmth of her hand, though.

* * *

And he watches still.

It's warm here, and the fire is crackling. He watches, silently through the door frame, Lucas and Maya. Seeing Maya grow up like this has scared him a little bit, for sure, but he knows that he needs to get over change, missing it, warping it, because it's a facet of life.

Lucas goes, and he can see the wistfulness, the somewhat sadness in her eyes. She taps her hands impatiently on her knee, as if she's waiting for someone else to pop along... and then Josh realises what he's doing, and once again this, he feels, is faintly the right time so he enters. Hopefully he's not forgetting.

Maya hears him, and rolls her eyes, but giggles slightly. "What do you want?"

"Oh, me?" Josh grins a goofy, lopsided one. "I was just standing there watching that whole thing."

Maya rolls her eyes again, in a friendly way. "Yeah, we get it... you watch stuff." She pauses. "So what do you think?"

Josh let his awkward laugh trail off, before sighing, and taking the empty seat next to Maya. _So close_ , he thought to himself _, but I don't care_. He sighs again, and mutters, "I thought this." Maya looks so intently into his eyes it's almost painful. "For me to ever think that I don't need a friend like you in the world... just 'cause I'm a little older... and that would make me a lot less mature that I want to be."

Maya's response is a little upholding. "You know, Boing." _Aaaaand here we go again_. "There are six years out of the year between our birthdays when we are only two years apart, like..." Maya looks at her "watch". "...oh, I don't know... right now! So how about this? We get the whole hold hand six weeks out of the year." She grins. "I'll take it!"

"You can do that," nods Josh. "But how about I like my deal better."

Pause. Pause pause pause.

"You once said you were playing the long game?" One of those times Josh had expected a proper answer from his system—turned slightly more awkward than hoped...

Maya looks at him. "I like you, Josh. It's you I like."

Josh doesn't want to say anything.

Josh wants to stay looking into her eyes.

She's three years younger than him.

He doesn't give a fuck.

"I like you, too."

Her smile is so reassuring, so perfect, he's actually glad he'd said that.

"And I'd never want you not to be in my life... now about—"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend now," declares Maya. Back she is.

"No," says Josh.

"Boyfriend and girlfriend eventually."

Josh can't get an answer from him. It's different. He rubs his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and looks slyly back at Maya, heart pounding out of his chest.

She looks at him pointedly, almost screeching, "You're not saying no!" Josh shakes his head to himself... now what had he signed up for? "You have to say _something_!"

And Josh, he comes to his conclusion. "I'll play the long game. You live your life, I'll live mine... and I know you're out there, and... and I'm out here, too."

And they shake on it.

 _Someday_.

 _If you don't forget_.

* * *

 **a/n:** okay, so it's one in the morning, and i had to write this and blehhh my feels. also, i'm uuuber excited for girl meets bear, because THAT JOSHAYA SCENE. bleh. so yeah.. this is just a prologue, and i missed out tons, because i'm going crazy and inspiration, but you get the idea. the next chapter will (hopefully) be up soon, and will be starring maya hart... in college. haha. :D


	2. new york, new york

**title:** what if we ruin it all?

 **a/n:** thank you all for the amazing feedback, it's truly wonderful. and so i picked up my shit and this happened. i'm really unsatisfied with how the last chapter went.. reading over it feels really rushed, sentences kinda flowing everywhere. maybe i'll get round to rewriting. but here is the next chapter xDDD

yeeeah, so this is another kinda prologue, but it does finally get to maya in nyu xD

 **summary:** It is only three years later when things start making sense. / Wherein Maya enters NYU, and Josh tries to find himself... or her, of all means. —josh/maya, and whatever's next.

* * *

 **new york, new york**

* * *

Maya doesn't forget.

Not even once. It's all the way through three (yes, _three_ ) _soul-destroying_ years she counts the days, the hours, everything in between... of course, Josh pops up every now and again, and it's every once in a while they decide to converse (each time amazing, of course, as Maya decides), and it's great. It's fine, fantastic: _she_ is happy that she's aware of what's going on, even if it's something little of what she understands, in Josh's mind when he looks at her. Somewhat differently, she guesses... from the whole Ski Lodge incident, and even more so the moment "little" was not so Maya. So perhaps it's near to nothing Maya can comprehend (she's never been a good watcher), but there's _something_ that lets her know, like a siren, a little _boing_ in the back of her mind, whenever she's sat down with Joshua Matthews, simply enjoying watching New York, listening in for car horns, dreaming of a busy life...

Whenever she's with Josh, everything changes.

And yet it doesn't. He's her Uncle Boing. It's the same, what she feels (what she thinks _he_ feels), and it's there, still, all of it. Fireplace or not, hand-holding (although recent studies state there's been a steady increase in such and such) or not... she knows that what wasn't "just a crush" is still not "just a crush", and there are some days when Maya wants to _scream_ at him for making her feel like this, so powerless and wrenched with almost horrifying euphoria at just the _thought_ of what Josh does to her, but whatever it is, Maya knows she'll never be able to. There are some days and somedays that Maya can't get past.

"Still playing the long game, right?" Maya wants to ask. But he's got her frozen in time.

"As ever," Maya _longs_ Josh to reply with.

But if neither say anything, they stare out in front of him, sometimes with laced fingers, sometimes with shoulders to lean on, sometimes not together at all. Sometimes, some days, Maya stares into the open, and _always_ , _every day_ , she wants to know if he's staring out, too. Just for her.

But it's a long shot. She knows it. This long game they're playing... it's not only some days does Maya think he's forgetting. There is a point when Josh stops visiting.

Maya needn't worry, she really shouldn't, but she does.

How can she help it? While Lucas and Riley are all loves up, Farkle and Smackle aformentioned, Maya's singing lullabies, hoping on that one day this long game will end, and Maya'll finally let go of herself. She knows she loves him, she does, _she does_ , and she knows he likes her, but then again she doesn't.

This is Joshua freaking Matthews she is talking about. And she is Maya Hart.

* * *

Josh forgets.

Not for the _whole_ three years... a rather lengthy way, in all honesty, because although Josh has never been one to be patient, but because he's never played one of these so-called games before.

It's less than a year through when he positively despises it. It's not chess, nor ludo, it can't be won. And it changes _all the damn time_ it drives Josh _nuts_... and if there's one thing he hates is being anything less than one hundred percent in the right. But this doesn't make him anything like that. It leaves him confused... and something he doesn't understand?

He does not get, not _one_ bit, Maya Hart.

He used to, he really did. Josh could be telling the truth for everyone, and really, he would be. In all his observations, he'd guessed (somewhat) right, Maya's tenderness, everyone coming before her because really that's all she'd ever learnt from herself. Josh had tried to steer her away from _that_ , and perhaps it worked, but it made him steer away from the whole... _wedge_ between them.

The borderline, the blockage—three years is slowly losing its value, and Josh doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

How _long_ are long games exactly?

A year in, and Josh has no clue.

Nothing at all.

What is something he _does_ know, is that he ends up visiting his family a lot, Cory's in particular, and for Riley and Auggie _primarily_ , he needs to assure himself every time. College is not at all cracked up to be, and Josh had learnt that the hard way—no way in hell would he refer it as the Hogwarts to his soul, because that first year at NYU was... utter... _hell_. Staying at Cory's is the best solution he has ever possibly thought of.

A lot of that time, though he's done his best to avoid, is talking to Maya. Innocent chatter is all it has been, the occasional (and he repeats: _occasional_ ) hand-holding, and not once, in all that time, one whole year, at least fifty different conversations, fifty different ways, has Maya questioned this long game of theirs.

It was like... it was like it had been everything one second, and nothing the next.

Another year goes by, and the college grows on him. Studies become a routine, this routine becomes his lifestyle, and he gets sucked into the vacancy. Maya, he sees less and less, and as soon as he can even call it on that he's _done_ , another year comes. And this year...

He thinks. He doesn't watch anymore (except for when he sometimes, some days, stares out at New York, wistfully, gazing at the other side, hoping—), he just _doesn't_. He thinks.

And somewhere along the line, he forgets.

It seems so impossible, being the proposer, of course, the starter of all this chaos—known-to-be chaos—but he does.

He doesn't forget the long game itself, oh, _God_ , no, that scares him shitless still, knowing, or not so knowing, when it'll be one no longer. He can still remember all as clearly the _Ski Lodge_ , talking with Maya, almost flirting with Maya, making that first move (on the board he himself could not label), because there are some moments you remember forever, right?

So, no, he doesn't forget the long game.

He just forgets what it means.

* * *

Maya's gonna call the authority. She doesn't care. She doesn't, she _doesn't_ —lock up Shawn and Katy _for all she damn cares_ , because, well, she really doesn't.

But her phone's on her bed, her suitcase it wide open, and there's Cory's old portable TV blaring these same insipid (ins- _cough-_ pirational) word like _living poison_ , "College. There is no elevator to—" _Y'ALL CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES YOU SLIMY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING TOADS_. Of course, Maya has always been the polite, patient one, so she refrains from strangling the damn "wisdom-givers". _The more you take, the more you lose_.

Maya sucks in her breath.

This is _college_. Three years since everything, and it's college. Turns here, twists there, forget all of that, bleh blows over, and then _bang zap zip_ it's college. _College_. Seven damn words, _hold onto your dignity, woman_. Maya promises herself she'll give herself ten seconds into NYU without falling apart.

She remembers, an outline, silhouette-like, Josh's outburst. She'd held his hand then, quietly, reassuringly, nothing more, nothing else. _I'm not ready... you think you are, but then you're_ _not_ , he'd said, and he'd given her the most hopeless look he ever had. And then he let go of her hand like it had stung him. Maybe it had.

But that was almost _three_ years ago.

Maya's not fifteen anymore. She hasn't been, not for a very, very long time, and perhaps Maya misses it, perhaps she doesn't, but it feels like seven lifetimes.

She's different from that girl. Crap, she's different to sixteen-year-old Maya... seventeen-year-old Maya, even. Because in that last year, Josh stopped visiting. He'd stopped passing her pearls of wisdom (okay, kinda... anything better than the shit on tape Shawn had given her); he'd stopped reassuring her; he'd stop just _being there_. And yes, there had been that emptiness, because surely, _surely_ , he had been her friend (and _I'd never want you not to be in my life_ her ass), and friends don't disappear like that. He had been worked up with school, to an extent he could have exploded, yes, Maya understood that, but she knew—and pretty sure as hell she knew _he_ knew, too—she'd do the same for him. In the last year, it was like the long game... stopped.

Maya has her sixth sense. She knows.

She's over that now (as she reminds herself most times). Because it feels free... free to be awol from this mess they'd called an in-between of friendship and a... an understood "crush", of some sorts. It feels nice. So nice Maya wants to forget it... and almost she does (most definitely _he_ does). But there's that one thing that gets stuck. A maybe. A someday. _Their_ someday. It sounds ( _ahem_ —sounded) promising, because Maya always forgets the same fact, over, and over again, because once a girl who'd only known a hope for suckers, she'd believed in "someday".

And Maya's making too much of a big deal of this. Evidently.

She switches the TV off in fuming vexation, zips her bags in something more, and decides it's best to repeatedly bang her forehead on her desk in almost exasperation, because she _doesn't want to go._

Man, four years without her right hand. No Riley (she's gotten into Yale of course, but who wouldn't have guessed?), no Huckleberry (off to old Texan blood for him, it was, and Maya knows it'll be hard for him and Riley, but they make up something Maya will probably forever envy, so she has no doubt they won't make it through), and no Farkle (with Smackle he's off to some high state place, a name too long for Maya to even try and remember), and with none of her gang, what is she?

A poor, wandering girl in NYU, looking, scrambling on dirt, to find _something_.

"Baby girl?"

Maya rolls her eyes, heaves her suitcase and many duffel bags off of her bed, and walks to the door. Shawn stood out their waiting, an arm casually on Katy's, _waaaay_ too much emotion on their faces. Maya groans, sweeps her annoying blonde hair over her straining shoulder, and makes for the car.

 _New York University, here we fucking come_.

* * *

Shawn's still way too new to this whole parentage thing. But Maya still needs to give him the points for trying.

Maya lets them go, and sharply breathes, clamping her eyes shut. _This is not college, this is not college_.

Oh, screw it. Screw everything. Screw her own bloody obnoxiousness... her stroppiness. Screw her hyperbole, just screw everything.

 _Because Girl meets Uni now_.

Long games, short games, Maya's past is Maya's past, and although it seems like yesterday, Maya is at Maya's future now, and whatever it holds, Maya needs to decide for herself.

So she promises herself she'll try.

* * *

 **a/n:** maya and josh were supposed to meet, but i lost inspiration. and i guess technically she's not even _in_ nyu, buuut... :D once again, thank you all for feedback, it means so much to me:)

also, i guess it's going to be kind of obvious what comes next, right? this concept's slightly overused, i know that, and i'm going to try and make it as different as possible. this is going to drone out a bit (as i hope), being _veeeerry_ slow-burn, so yeah, just letting you know, in case. and chapters will be supposedly longer, i'm just in too much of a rush to get this finished, lol :D

okaaaaay so my a/ns always seem to be longer than i hope, but yeah, this wasn't exactly her in college.. but next chapter she will be, and settling in, and we just might have some josh interaction. another thing—this has been a bit josh-centric, like last chapter (i was really meant to keep it maya-centric, but i couldn't help it and bleh), but we'll have more maya in chapters to come :D


	3. realisations (and confrontations)

**title:** what if we ruin it all?

 **a/n:** i was inspired so here i am with another chapter xDD finally they (interact).. not really original. but it tried xD ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **summary:** It is only three years later when things start making sense. / Wherein Maya enters NYU, and Josh tries to find himself... or her, of all means. —josh/maya, and whatever's next.

* * *

 **realisations (and confrontations)**

* * *

So far Maya's been able to a) piss off her roommate (Chelley her _ass_ , with all fancy cursive letters and all that shit and pink fluffy unicorns and _just fifty shades of fucking hypocrisy_ ), b) piss her off a little more ( _not_ my _fault you're a complete boss ass bitch, you fat little peanut_ , Maya could _scream, yawp_ at her and her fancy doodle feather-y earrings, and her _way_ too high-pitched voice, pedicure, manicure, _perfect perfect perfect_ ), and c) perhaps piss her off to an extent Maya's alone in her room for an almost forever. Four years. But it's the same thing— _the same damn thing_.

To be honest, she doesn't _really_ blame her roommate. Poor wretched thing, in all honesty... sure, Maya thinks she could be a whole deal _nicer_ , in another world, once upon a time, perhaps, but with all that given, Maya guesses it's not her fault _wholly_.

But Maya's got her, and for at least the beginning, herself is good. She's been alone for long enough to know that.

For the first few days, she tries to deal with her sleep schedule, _and_ her class schedule, _and_ for the guy who hadn't been bothered to be "friendly" enough to come to her graduation (senior prom was kinda a pain, to be honest... Lucas and Riley being a lot too touchy-feely than Maya'd have hoped, Smackle and Farkle ditto, and _her_ date... yes, Zay... well, let's just say she didn't get a lot of "prom-ing" done namely), nor beforehand, her actual opening _of_ her acceptance letter. (Riley, the rest of the Matthews, and their gang plus her mum and Shawn had been there, however. Gosh, _Zay_ was there. Zay was there, and Josh was not.)

Maya had been there for his... okay, _slightly_ impromptu, but nonetheless she was _there_ when he'd opened it, that same, proud smile on his face Maya had also had, Maya perched on his back. Step one to forgetting, she guesses.

New York skies darken a lot quicker than Maya has noticed in the past eighteen years of living. It's like you only find things... when it's there. But when it's just you there, so it's no one else, _nothing_ else you're looking at... because that _one thing_ is your focal point... and you just can't bring your abstract eyes to look away... even for just one second. New York is beautiful. She knows this, but it's only now she can _really_ appreciate it.

Maya likes to paint with pressure. Maya likes to paint when there's so much noise she can barely hold her paintbrush... because _that's_ where she gets her inspiration. Noisy people, lively people. The art of being alive.

Riley. She tries to draw Riley. The tiniest freckles on the tip of her nose... her crinkly smile, her crinkly, warmer-than-warm brown-ish eyes. She's beautiful, god damn, she's _gorgeous_ (no _wonder_ why Lucas chose her... not that she _wanted_ him to choose _Maya_ , but...), and she almost hates her for it. She also hates her honesty. She's too honest... and too much of that gets people hurt. Innocent, too. A lone cinnamon roll in the midst of some gangsters. Maya's horrified at the thought, immensely starts to dislike her so-called Riley drawing, scrunches it up, and throws it across the room, to Chelley's little pink rubbish bin.

Then she feels bad of throwing her best friend forever away, groans as she leaves her bed, bends down, picks it up, decidedly kicks over Chelley's little pink rubbish bin, and walks ten miles over to her bed again. She stretches it out, smoothing down every crease, letting a small, weak smile materialise on her make-up-less face, under starry skies, and slips it onto her bedside table.

She turns off her light, and tries to fall asleep.

* * *

It's almost six-and-a-half hours later when Maya opens her eyes, and almost screams her head off at Riley... or at least, in her current state of mind, the _picture_ of Riley, because she's no longer there.

 _This routine ain't gonna be one until a_ long _time_ , Maya calculates.

Maya tosses and turns, and hears several a _crash_ , as her little acrylic paints slump down to the side of her bead (what a bloody prick), with her freshly sharpened pencils following behind. Maya rubs her eyes in annoyance, and gets her little legs off of her duvet cover. NYC is busy and chattering again, whether it's five in the morning, or not.

Her attire is simple, like it's been since she got here—since forever, to be honest—ripped jeans, a _Bastille_ top, and a denim jacket. She scrapes her hair up into a small messy ponytail—and that's her first realisation.

Not anything _hair_ -wise... she guesses the thought of making an effort triggered _something_ , although it's the most stupid thing ever... it does. Because it's in that moment does she realise _Josh_ currently resides in the same area as she... here... in NYU... _fuck_. She _forgot_? Long game it is then. Although she wouldn't be surprised if he forgot... because he has, he has had to, as Maya reminds herself as often as Uncle Boing comes into her mind.

She's eighteen. No more Uncle Boing. He still makes her "boing", and he's still Riley's fun-loving, _gorgeous_ uncle, and yet he's neither now. He's Josh.

Maya needs to grow up. If she hasn't ridiculously already... _h_ _e's going to be smarter, and so am I_.

What smart person calls another smart person "Uncle _Boing_ "... well, she does have a legitimate backstory for that origin, but she's a college student now, and he's near to graduating. She doesn't want to embarrass him—again, _again_ —because she's his _friend_. Although he hasn't been hers since last year, she's still his, because Maya really, really, _really_ cares about him, long game or not, she'd rather have him in her life, than not in at all.

Maya decides her mood. Is she mad that Josh hasn't been bothered to call her, or even so message "Congrats!", or even an old "Haps baps, Gorgeous"...? Or is she going to be the girl (woman) she should, maturity and all, _not_ being embarassing _, not_ , in the rarity they _do_ cross roads, calling Josh "Boing" or anything along those lines?

Maya chooses neither.

She goes out with a strong, dedicated heart, and a million and one questions tugging at her brain.

In a puddle of doubt, and a muddle of misplacement, Maya packs her bag, shoves her hand down the side of her bed to retrieve any lost equipment, and trundles off to the massive library down the hall. She's an early bird, she is, and it's when she gets her motivation. Fairytales, chirping birds and shit (with the addition of talking people, namely, Riley) is what gets her pen on paper. Early morning does her head in, but it does her head _out_ , too, because she can think. Not of normal, daily stuff, no, but crazy shit... shit that gets her going.

It's pretty much silent. There's a few students (that's right, adieu to old _kids_ ) scattered around, and the librarian is as she is. Maya plods herself down onto an empty seat, and scrabbles for her selection of notepads.

She tries. She really does. She draws a pelican, that ends up as a lotus flower. She tries a do-over, making Riley look somewhat... more _right_. Then she tries with Huckleberry, but she makes him look like a scarecrow. So she gives up. She contemplates on reading, but hell be upon her the day she _finishes_ a book... _soooo_ she's back to square one, choosing a rather too-quiet place, no pressure on them, on her whatsoever (classes start at _eleven_ ). Rather empty-headed of her. She flips the cover over hard, so hard it almost crashes her finger and _does_ , ultimately, appraise her with one merciless paper cut. She stares back at the clock. It's barely half-past five. What is her life?

And just when things couldn't get any worse:

" _Shit_!"

And a couple of books collapse on her head (including some _Mary Berry_ recipe book, and a collection of Edgar Allan Poe), and before Maya has a moment to respond of such of an imbecile, _crappy_ start to her day, Mrs Hellhound the lenient librarian screams at her, and the books, points a finger, and send her off.

So unless she's turned into Matilda or Dumbledore, no way in hell do books collapse. _Just like that_.

Oh, and of course... someone is at her tale. The one who shouted a curse word a little too loudly, and _then_ made her paper cut bleed a tinge more, _and_ really got Cerberus moving.

"Not cool," Maya groans in a humph. "I could sucker-punch you now. Really hard."

"I'm sorry?"

"What?"

Maya doesn't say that because it's the dumbest answer someone's ever given her (although it is... kinda), because it's not only a sheepish little voice, but one she knows. _One she knows_. Maya frowns.

And Maya looks up.

Uncle Boi—

Joshua Matthews. Joshua _fucking_ Matthews.

Right, so she's _so_ not ready for this. Neither was he, by the looks of it. His look is seventy times more lumbering than hers, and yes, he looks _gorgeous_ , only grown gracious through age, but she's still pissed at him. And when Maya Hart is pissed... Maya Hart is pissed. And it seems like Josh Matthews knows that all too well, too. Some guys are peeking through the glass door the prada-wearing devil sent them through, some sympathetic, some outright amused, and Maya hates this attention. She's no attention-seeker (by the looks of it neither is he), but once she gets the wrong warning sign in the day, she's not damn well letting this hot piece of boing go without too little.

"Well," Maya starts, and she knows Josh is beginning to see red. He rubs the back of his neck, and opts to take one step back. "do you care to explain yourself, Joshua Matthews?" He doesn't answer, only gulps, and she's tempted to tip-toe, and pull him by the collar. "You ass. You don't make fun of people, especially not Maya. You don't make _other_ people make fun of me, especially not Maya. And since you've been out of sight, almost out of mind my _senior_ year, you have no _right_ to screech _shit_ when you lay your beautiful little eyes on me, _and above all_ you _don't pour books on my head_."

Josh blinks. A few times. (Not because he heard the " _almost out of mind_ ", not the little "beautiful" slipped into "little" and "eyes".) Because all he can see is how feisty little Maya's still adorable. _Cough_. "Right. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry, huh?" Maya snaps.

"Honestly," Josh replies, nodding. "I am."

"For which part?" Maya moves closer. "Raining recipes or just... being gone the past year? One of, if not, _the_ most important year(s) of my life? Senior year. Homecoming. Acceptance letter. Prom. _Graduation_." (And whether homecoming or prom matters she does not know, but it's important; it's _something_. Something he missed.) So she stops, and nibbles on her lip. "Josh, I thought you were my friend."

"I was—I _am_ ," he intervenes. "I just... I had a lot going on the past year. I would have visited, really."

"But you didn't."

"I _couldn't_ ," he corrects. Himself more than her, perhaps.

 _What about our someday? The long game?_ Maya longs to ask. She holds her tongue in lieu, and crosses her arms. "Did you even know I was here? No _congrats, Maya! I knew you'd get it in!_ Nothing. Nada. Nein. Zilch."

He looks down. "Of course I knew," he says softly. "But—"

Maya tears a page from her notebook, and scrunching it up, shoves it in Josh's mouth. She doesn't want to hear it. _Whatever_ more he has to say. She walks off, cradling her (bleeding) pinkie, and lets Josh stand, completely frazzled beyond his own belief.

Just because Maya happens to _like_ him, doesn't mean she's going to let this past year go.

* * *

 **a/n:** right, so my chapters are actually getting shorter and shorter xDD these are pretty introductory, so when i actually get ahold of which direction i want this story to go, i'll concentrate on more detail, making them longer. but yeah. josh and maya's first meeting in a year. maya's bad. josh is too cute. and _I'M PUMPED FOR GIRL MEETS BEAR AND SEPTEMBER IN WHICH I'LL BE VIDDING AND HOPEFULLY WRITING A WHOOOOOLE LOT MORE JOSHAYAAAA_ :DD

josh is left with paper in his mouth, and maya's off in a strop. what's neeeeeexxxt?


End file.
